Daddy'll Hold You All Night
by wandertogondor
Summary: Growing up in the tight Winchester cocoon was never easy. Here are a few glimpses of Natalie Winchester's life fighting off boredom and Uncle Sammy's stinky feet! Series of one-shots.
1. As Lucky As Marshmallow Charms

**Daddy'll Hold You All Night-Inspired by Eminem's _Mockingbird_**

**A big thank you to sweetkiwi604 who has to be my biggest supporter! She's one of the best writers I know so mosey on over to her page, you won't be disappointed!**

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"Uncle Sam?" Natalie tugged at his sleeve shyly. Sam crouched down to her level, brushing a stray strand of hair back behind her ear.

"What the matter, baby?" He brought the five year old into his arms just as tears dripped out of her eyes and landed on his sleeves. Natalie wrapped her small, yet strong, arms around his neck tightly and cried into his shoulder blade.

"I miss daddy." she sobbed.

"I know, baby, I know." He rubbed soothing circles on her back, trying to avoid the whiskers of her stuffed lion which she clutched in the crook of her arm.

"When is he coming back? I miss daddy."

"He'll be back real soon, sweetheart." Sam pulled back to wipe a fat teardrop from her face with his thumb. "I promise. You just gotta stiffen that upper lip." He hoisted her up, stuffed animal and all, and her legs wrapped around his waist as if she was afraid that he might let her go. "You want something to eat, Nat?"

She nodded meltingly, her chin resting on the curve of his shoulder.

Bobby was sprawled out on the couch in the living room, totally passed out and snoring loudly. Adam was still up on his laptop, his fingers poised at ready over the keyboard. His face crumbled when he saw Natalie's puffy red eyes.

"Nat, you want to go to Adam?" Sam cooed. His niece nodded and Adam stood up from the table for the exchange, holding out his long arms to the small child.

"Unc-Uncle Sammy, can I have Lucky Charms?"

Sam walked behind his half-brother to smile reassuringly into her sad face, the colorful box of cereal already in his hands.

He watched painfully while Nat slurped on the spoonful of cereal, milk dribbling down her chin and landing against the ruffles on her pink shirt. She reminded him of himself when he was younger. Then again, Natalie was as lucky as the marshmallow charms she ate-she didn't have the weight of the world on her five-year old shoulders. Instead she had five men who would die for her in a heartbeat-Cas included. She noisily finished the bowl and looked up at Sam and Adam with a toothy grin.

The low grumble of the Impala's engine muttered outside. Sam glanced at Natalie, hoping she hadn't heard before motioning to Adam with his head to keep their niece occupied while he talked to Dean.

Dean was halfway up to the porch with a duffel thrown over his shoulder when Sam stopped him with a frown.

"What?" He asked, starting to walk past his younger brother.

"You know, you're really starting to become like dad." Sam shoved him back a few steps, continuing in the same firm tone when Dean rolled his eyes. "She needs you, Dean. Natalie needs her father. She doesn't need Uncle Sam or Adam or Bobby or Cas. She needs you!"

"Don't tell me how to raise my kid, Sam." Dean furrowed his eyebrows in anger but quickly changed his expression when the back door flung open and Natalie jumped into his waiting embrace. "Did you miss me, baby?" He smiled and kissed her forehead when she nodded.

"Daddy, Uncle Adam read me a long book."

"Did he, sweetheart?" Dean glanced over at Adam who leaned against the back door. Natalie put both her hands on her father's face, turning his gaze back to her.

"It was about," she tripped over her words, half her concentration focused on the amulet around his neck. "It - It was about a little hobbit..but he wasn't a baby - he was old. Older than you, daddy. And - and he said 'good morning' a whole lot and he - he goes on a trip with these funny dwarves. And one of the dwarves -Thorin, right, Uncle Adam?" Adam nodded with a shadow of a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth when she continued. "Well, he was really serious...kinda like Uncle Cas."

Dean put his forehead against hers.

"You know daddy loves you more than anything, right?"

Natalie nodded, but she wasn't finished her story yet. "But, daddy, he fainted! Mr. Bilbo fainted," She squealed and squirmed in laughter. "He fainted and you know what Gandalf said?"

"What did Gandalf say, precious?" Dean asked, his eyes shining happily.

"Haven't gotten there yet," Adam mumbled under his breath, refering to Dean quoting Gollum's often said line: _My preciousssssss._

"Gandalf is a magic wizard and he said the funniest thing. He said Mr. Bilbo was an 'ex-ite-able little fellow.'" She sang, throwing her arms out to the side, and mimicking the English accent Adam had used to read the lines to her.

"Tell your dad how you couldn't stop laughing," Adam poked her rib gently when Dean came up the steps.

"Daddy, I couldn't stop laughing. Uncle Adam and Uncle Sam did funny voices and they acted it out and Uncle Sam was jumping on the couch and hit his head on the ceiling." Nat burst out into another fit of uncontrollable laughter, forgetting that minutes ago she was crying for her father.

The Winchester's filed back into the kitchen. Once Natalie kissed Adam goodnight, she chatted away about her day, perched on Dean's knee as he sipped on a beer and eagerly listened to her childish stories. Sam stood over the sink, washing Nat's empty cereal bowl, brooding, but watching intently at Natalie and Dean interact. An amused smile spread over his older brother's face when his daughter mentioned something memorable.

"...and then Uncle Bobby fell asleep on the couch." Nat took a deep breath and yawned.

"Looks like someone's tired," Dean observed, putting his bottle down on the table.

"I'm not tired, daddy. Honest."

Dean set her down on her own feet. "Go brush your teeth, baby."

"Can I sleep with you?"

"Only if you brush your teeth." He warned.

Natalie rushed up the stairs, her shoes clomping loudly against the wood. Her stuffed animal, Rodger as she fondly dubbed him, still under her arm.

"So, you got a job?" Dean asked, his voice now gruff when he turned back to see Sam drying his hands on a dish cloth.

Sam shrugged, exhaling sharply in exhaustion. "It's been a quiet few days as far as I know."

"Look, Sam," Dean raked a hand across his face, clearly worn out from his long drive. "I know I don't give Natalie enough attention - but I love her."

"I love her too, Dean. We all do. But sometimes Nat doesn't need us telling her that we care as much as she needs you to say the same thing."

Natalie came down the stairs even more loudly then she did going up. She motioned Dean down to look into her face while she stuck her finger in her mouth and rubbed her teeth, creating a squeaking sound.

"Good job, Nat!" Dean said proudly. "Say goodnight to Sam."

Natalie ran to plant a kiss on Sam's cheek after he had lifted her high enough to reach his face. "I'll see you and Sir Rodger in the morning, possum."

"I don't want to be a possum, Uncle Sam." She opposed with a small giggle. "I want to be a hobbit."

"Then you're a hobbit, then." Sam planted her firmly on the ground, kissing the top of her head before she ran into Dean's arms.

"And you can be Mr. Bilbo, daddy. And Uncle Sam be Gandalf and Uncle Cas can be Mr. Thorin - because he never laughs - and Uncle Bobby...well, Uncle Bobby's still asleep."

"And you should be too." Dean stood, lifting her off the ground enough so she was standing on his booted feet. He held her wrists while they awkwardly took one step at a time up to get up the stairs, laughing and being entirely happy.

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**Choices for the next chapter: **

**1. While going on a walk with her dad, Nat finds a present she wants to take to Uncle Cas ****  
**

**2. Nat wants to give Uncle Sammy a makeover**

**3. Nat is stuck in a boooring motel room with Dean and pretends to be a famous movie monster**

**Your choice :) If you have other ideas that you'd like to see PM me or leave your welcome suggestion in the review box!**


	2. Uncle Sam's New Makeover

**I think I got one vote for each choice so I just went with Sammy's new makeover. **

**Don't worry! I'll recycle ideas. But if you want me to do one specific topic really bad than PM me. **

**I'm hoping to update at least once a week!**

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"...and then Prince Philip kisses Sleeping Beauty and they live happily ever after."

"That was a nice story," Sam turned to smile appreciatively back at his niece.

"Uncle Sam," Natalie groaned, using her entire hand to push his large head back to looking forward. "I can't brush your hair with Princess Jasmine's brush if you keep looking back."

"Sorry, ma'am," Sam turned forward and said, making Nat giggle at being referred to like a grown-up. He folded his hands in his lap while she sat on the table and ran Princess Jasmine's plastic comb through his hair.

That morning, Dean had suddenly decided that it was high time to get Natalie the toys that normal kids had. So he took her to the closest Toys 'R Us and watched her bound around the store and skip down the long aisles before finally stopping at a teal plastic lined bag with a picture of Jasmine on the front. The package had included a plush version of Raja including lipstick, nail polish, and several berets and a comb with cheap looking beads hanging off the handle from a lacy string. If it had been Dean, he would have gone for the miniature electric helicopters or the jive-ass nurf guns in the next aisle but he could tell his daughter was set in her decision - proving that the Winchester stubbornness didn't wear through the generations. It'd give her unreal expectations of life but, what the hell, she was a five year old girl and this would probably just be a phase.

"Make Uncle Sammy look pretty now, darling." Dean looked up from the laptop.

"I will, daddy." Natalie giggled assuredly, pulling at the knot that had bunched up at the nape of Sam's neck. "Your hair's going to be all pretty when I'm done with it, Uncle Sammy."

"Oh, joy," Sam muttered, trying to sound as enthusiastic as he could between the gentle - almost soothing - tugs from the comb.

"Uncle Sammy," Nat braced herself against his shoulder and climbed down into his lap with a pout. "Your hair's just too messy. I don't want to break my brush because your mommy never taught you how to look like daddy."

Her voice was like liquid candy - sweet and doting - and Sam couldn't take any offense to the unintentional stab at his heart. He could sense Dean tense up and fall into a pit of drowned memories, his eyes searching to find any hint of his little brother's reaction.

"That's okay, Nat. I don't want your brush to break." Sam coiled one arm loosely around her back so she wouldn't tumble down out of his lap.

Natalie reached past his shoulder, one hand gripping a fistful of his flannel shirt, to reach the pile of teal berets beside Dean's laptop.

"Daddy, help," she grunted, unable to stretch any further for her fingers to grasp the clips.

Dean cracked a smile before nudging the plastic covered clips closer to her hand. She wrapped her fingers around them before settling back on her Uncle's lap. Nat separated one clip from the pile and put the rest in the pocket on Sam's shirt for safekeeping. She started pushing away some hair from the side of his face, squirming in agitation before throwing her arms down in despair.

"What's wrong?" Sam inquired.

"Uncle Sam," Nat placed her hands on her hips and said, slowly and clearly. "I can't make you look pretty when your face is so far away."

"I - I can move my face in closer." he offered, leaning forward so she could easily reach his hair.

Nat thought about this for a moment before sliding off his knees and pointing to the floor. "If you sit on the floor it'll be more fun."

"That's right, sweetheart," Dean threw in, pumping his fist in the air with conviction. "show 'em who's boss."

Sam did as she said and crossed his legs on the ground, throwing his brother an 'I hate you' look. Natalie stood behind him and played with his hair for a good twenty minutes before clipping the berets in several oddly pulled directions. When she was done Dean covered his laugh.

"Dude, you look like a moose!"

"Hey," Nat cried in opposition, falling into Sam's lap. "Uncle Sammy's a very pretty moose. I still have to do your nails."

She made Sam put his palms flat on the kitchen floor while she painstakingly applied a random rainbow of color over all ten fingernails. The nail polish often dribbled off down his fingers and all over Sam's hand but he didn't complain or point it out.

Next Natalie pushed up her sleeves and squirted three large pumps of Jergen's lotion, that she had dug out of Bobby's bathroom, into her palm before smacking it all over Sam's face. She tried her best distributing the lotion evenly but gave up when there was just too much excess left on his face and all over her hands.

"Daddy, what do I do?" She held her arms out so Dean could see the globs of white lotion in the dips between her fingers and on her wrists.

"Go share some with Bobby, honey," Dean suggested, motioning to the garage with his head where Adam and Bobby were working to fix up a car. "He's getting old and wrinkly."

Natalie was halfway through the door when she gasped and turned back around. "I almost forgot about you, Uncle Sammy!" She waddled back to where Sam still sat patiently on the floor, rummaged through the Jasmine bag and pulled out the cherry red lipstick. Her Uncle sat motionless while she applied three coats of lopsided lines along his lips, some of it smudging right under his lip or going too far to the left of his face.

"I bet I'm the best looking one here," Sam bragged loudly, his eyes going wide when Nat opened one of her red markers.

"Sammy, you look gorgeous." Dean snickered while leaning against the counter and watching his daughter do her magic to his little brother's face. "I bet you can be the big sister Nat's always wanted."

"I've always wanted a big sister," Nat made a large oval on either side of Sam's face with the Crayola marker and filled it in - just like she had practiced in all those coloring books that Uncle Adam bought for her. "Okay, Uncle Sam. I'm done."

Sam let out a deep breath, waving his hands in the air to make sure the nail polish had dried. Nat took his hand and pulled her large, beautified Uncle to the bathroom and stood him in front of the mirror.

_I look like I've been impaled with a sledgehammer_, Sam thought.

"I haven't looked this young since your dad shoved worms up my nose in the sixth grade." He chuckled, trying to calculate how long she'd want him to walk around with his newly painted face.

When he looked down, Nat was staring up at him with adoring eyes and a wide grin - almost identical to Dean's. "Uncle Sam," she began honestly. "but you look like Dr. Frank Furter."

"When have you seen _The Rocky Horror Picture Show_?" Sam scowled, disapproving of a five year old watching movies like that.

Nat shrugged. "Daddy said it was okay."

He rolled his eyes, making a mental note to give Dean a long lecture about letting Nat bask in age-appropriate movies.

_Age appropriate movies, Sam_, he could almost hear his brother say. _Yeah, 'cause screwing a dead chick is just society approved sunshine and lollipops for all ages._

_It's called 'Snow White,' Dean._

"Do you like it, Uncle Sammy? Did I do good?"

"You did awesome, sweetheart!" They heard Dean shout from the kitchen.

"I love it, possum." Sam assured, placing a careful kiss on the top of her head.

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**Choices for the next chapter: **

**1. Dean is woken up early in the morning to answer an important question **

**2. Natalie shows Dean her report card**

**3. Nat gets sick when Dean leaves for a hunt and pretends to be a famous movie monster**

**Your choice :) If you have other ideas that you'd like to see PM me or leave your welcome suggestion in the review box!**


	3. Big Fat Friends

**I'm hoping to update at least once a week! And don't worry, I recycle paper _and _ideas :)**

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"Daddy, daddy, daddy." There was a pause. "Daddy, daddy, daddy, dad, daddy,"

Dean covered his exhausted face, muttering by burying his face deeper underneath the pillow, his neck awkwardly craned sideways against the flat mattress. Between the bed sheets and the edge of the pillow, he could see Natalie sitting up on her knees in her teal submarine-printed onesies. Her wild, curly, dark hair stuck up in several different directions since she was a fitful sleeper - Dean often had to wrap his arms around her to make sure she didn't fall right out of bed - and for a moment her hair looked identical to Rodger's messy mane.

"Daddy," she tried again, leaning down to whisper underneath the pillow, gently nudging his shoulder with her hand.

"What is it, Nat?" Dean sat up, running his fingers through his bed-head and squinting to focus all his attention on his daughter.

"Daddy," Natalie repeated, squaring her small shoulders and making her face serious - like she had seen Uncle Cas do all the time! "Daddy, I love you. Can we be best friends?"

Dean couldn't help but smile at the way her eyes were filled with innocence. He smoothed down her voluminous hair with his other hand and said, "Of course, sweetheart."

"What about Uncle Sammy?" Nat gasped with energy and expressiveness. "Or Uncle Adam or Uncle Cas or Uncle Bobby! Can I be best friends with them too?"

Dean tried stifling a laugh instead he pretended to think hard and long about her question, scrunching his eyebrows, deep in thought. "Well," He approached, trying to sound as logical as a five-year old would consider it. "yes, you can. But Uncle Sam's not invited to be with the cool group - like daddy and Uncle Adam, Cas and Bobby. He has to be in the B.F.F. club."

"What does 'B.F.F.' mean?" She tilted her head to the side, mostly because her hair fell to one side, pulling her entire body down into the pillows again.

"It means 'Big Fat Friend.'"

She wiggled her nose, confused. "But Uncle Sammy's not fat,"

"Yeah, but Uncle Sammy's a big friend, right?"

"Well, I guess so. I believe you, daddy."

"Atta girl," Dean held out his fist. "Give me some love."

Natalie ignored his waiting fist bump and, instead, threw her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek.

"We're gonna have to work on that lovin', sweetheart."

"I have to go tell everyone that I love them!" Natalie declared, jumping off the bed and disappearing down the hallway, her wave of hair flying out in her speed.

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**Choices for the next chapter: **

**1. Nat is scared of the ghosts in her closet but Dean has a sure-fire way to fix that**

**2. Nat wants to pick the music in the Impala **

**3. Nat has a thing or two to say to a teen who makes fun of her dad. **

**Your choice :) If you have other ideas that you'd like to see PM me or leave your welcome suggestion in the review box!**


	4. Who You Gonna Call?

**SATs...'nuff said?**

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Dean let out an exhausted sigh, pressing two fingers against his tightly shut eyes and inhaling the musky smell of the worn, yellowed pages of the large book in his lap. He had suspected a vengeful spirit in Jasper, Indiana and was ready to buff up the Impala for the long drive but Sam caught his shoulder on the way out, saying that he and Adam could check it out instead.

"Just stay with Natalie," Sam firmly said before walking out the door.

"Son of a bitch," Dean muttered under his breath, turning away from the open door. A hand raked over his mouth and chin as he clenched his jaw.

_If there's somethin' strange in your neighborhood, who ya gonna call?_

"My daddy!"

_If it's something's weird and it won't look good, who ya gonna call?_

"That's easy," Nat folded her legs underneath her small body in front of the television, a fork in one hand and Rodger in the other. "My daddy!"

Dean leaned against the entrance to the living room and cracked a smile. Her hair waved to and fro as she rocked back and forth, chiding and shaking her head at the television that had _obviously_ got it wrong.

"Nat," He spoke up, interrupting his own thoughts. "get ready for bed."

"But daddy - "

"Now, Natalie Winchester," Dean ordered, sounding more like John that he intended.

Nat frowned, begrudgingly slamming the television set off with a careless slap and stomping past him. Stubbornness was the clearest Winchester trait right beside alcoholism. Dean wanted to mold both of those vices out of his daughter as she continued on toward adulthood.

"Daddy!"

Dean jumped out of the couch, sprinting with all his might up the stairs and down the small hallway. He wretched the florally decorated white door open to see his daughter sitting up in bed, trembling, with her stuffed lion pressed against her dewy face.

"What's wrong, sweetheart? Are you hurt?" The bed squeaked as it accommodated his weight as he pulled her into his arms.

"Daddy," Nat buried her face in his embrace, wheezing back ugly, racking sobs that stood painfully in her throat. "There's a ghost in my closet."

She thrust a limp hand toward the general vicinity of the dark, shadow-casted closet with contempt. Dean stroked her wild hair and looked up at the door which stood slightly ajar. He gently pried his daughter's fingers from his shirt and slowly eyeballed the closet.

For just a brief moment he actually believed that there was some sort of dangerous wraith lurking in the deep folds of the darkened closet but that prickly sensation didn't start up at the back of his neck. First he turned on the flowered lamp so that a homely halo of light could brighten up the darkest corners then opened the closet door, pretending to rummage around for a moment even though he didn't have to.

"There's no ghosts in here, Nat," Dean poked his head out with a reassuring smile cast toward his daughter who was shroud herself in her blanket.

"But daddy there is!" She insisted.

"Okay, Nat," Dean stepped out and stopped at the bed so she could jump into his waiting arms.

"Where're we going, daddy?"

Dean craned his neck away from Rodger's whiskers and walked toward the linen closet, turned in for storage, at the end of the hall. He supported his daughter's weight with one arm and swung open the closet door. Humming Smoke on the Water bemusedly, Dean finally caught sight on a vintage, dust-covered vacuum hidden behind a pile of blunt stakes. He carried the vacuum back to the room, easily swinging his daughter to a sitting position on the bed. His eyes looked around the bottom of the walls for an plug closest to the closet.

"Here you go, Nat," He held out the slender tube that came with the vacuum toward his daughter and motioned his head to the closet. "Remember how the Ghostbusters suck up all those ghosts? Ghosts have a weakness for these vacuums. I want you to go all around your closet and wherever else you think there's a ghost hiding and suck 'em all up into Uncle Bobby's vacuum."

Natalie hesitantly took the crevice tube from her father and entered the now brightened closet. After moments of slowly walking around for precautionary measures, she was bounding around the little room, holding the vacuum tube against her clothing and her socks and to the corners and even at Rodger's fur.

"I ain't afraid of no ghosts!" She giggled when she was totally content with the disheveled state of her closet. But at least there was no ghosts.

Daddy made sure of that.

"Daddy, look!"

Dean glanced over to see Nat holding the tube at her cheek, resulting in half her face to be lopsidedly sucked into the tube.

"I think I should call the Ghostbusters on you, kiddo," He grinned ear to ear and began to poke her stomach but before his finger could even come close, she jumped under her covers. After a moment of hesitancy, Nat peeked out from under the blankets, an appreciative smile brightening her face.

_Who you gonna call?_

That was as easy as pie: Daddy!

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**Choices for the next chapter: **

**1. Nat's curious about aliens  
**

**2. Nat makes up her own report card and shows Dean because he'll be doubly proud!  
**

**3. Nat finds a perfect present for Uncle Cas  
**

**Your choice :) If you have other ideas that you'd like to see PM me or leave your welcome suggestion in the review box! I recycle paper _and _ideas :)  
**


	5. Rumsfeld, Sandwiches, and Feathery Butts

**Okay, so a great deal of you lovelies wanted a few chapters when Natalie's bigger. I'm up for that so if anyone has any specific ideas then just shoot me a PM or leave a suggestion in your review :)**

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"Daddy," Natalie angled her head to look up at her father's face, grimacing against the sun but relaxing when Dean's body blocked out the bright light.

"What is it, princess?" Dean asked, breaking his concentration from the Impala's engine to focus wholly on his daughter.

"Daddy, can we go on a walk?" She kicked a leg out and tapped her foot, waiting for an answer. Her eyes were glued to her father's slow jaunt to the work table for a clean cloth to wipe the grease from his fingertips.

"First, did you eat the lunch I made for you?"

Natalie turned her head and stared up at him with vacant eyes, her lips curling in slightly.

"Sweetheart," Dean got down on his haunches so he could be on the same level with his daughter, concern etched in every muscle in his face. "Sweetheart, you haven't been eating anything. What's wrong?" He put his palm against her small forehead. "You don't have a fever."

Natalie looked earnestly into her father's eyes, trying to smile as meltingly as she could. She knew that always got daddy to do what she wanted but she couldn't smile now because if she said that she had eaten the chewy grilled cheese sandwich that would be a lie. But she couldn't tell daddy that she had given the sandwich to Rumsfeld which was the truth.

"Daddy, don't be mad at me." She burst into tears, throwing her arms around his neck and clung to his t-shirt when he stood up.

"Tell me what happened, Natalie," Dean carried her over to the Impala and sat her down on the roof, standing against the door so she wouldn't fall. Nat ran the back of her hand under her nose to wipe away the copious amount of tears that ran into the nose through the nasolacrimal glands and flowed out of her nostrils.

"Rummy was hungry!" She sobbed, flopping her arms down in the shame of having to admit the mistake that would make her daddy mad at her.

"You gave it to Rumsfeld?"

Having heard his name, the black Rottweiler with brown paws jumped off of Bobby's 1968 Ford F-350 and came running at full speed into the garage. His tail was wagging wildly when he jumped and rested his heavy paws on Dean's chest.

"Damn dog," Dean caught his balance using the firm frame of the car. Natalie giggled past her tears when she sat on top of the Impala watching her daddy try to escape the playful jumps of Rumsfeld.

When he finally reached the car again after the large Rottweiler had finally retreated back to his perch on the old truck, Dean lifted his daughter down and took her hand.

"So, you're not mad at me?"

"I'm not mad at you, sweetheart," He assured. "But next time I want you to finish your food. No matter how much Rumsfeld begs. Okay? Say okay."

"Okay, daddy," Natalie had to walked three steps to catch up with one of her father's. "as long as you're not mad at me."

"I can never be mad at you, Natalie Winchester. I love you too much."

When they were kids and John had dropped them off at Bobby's when he was off hunting the monster of the week, Dean and Sam had explored the dense thickets in the backyard. They had raked back the leaves with the sides of their cheap shoes and created a series of footpaths channeling through the rise and fall of the landscape and weaving through the trees.

Dean noticed when he and Natalie reached the edges of the tree line that the trail was just barely visible. There were layers of dried leaves that covered the wide path but it didn't matter to Dean.

"You know me and Uncle Sammy made this path."

"Really?" Natalie gawked, "Daddy you made all these roads?"

"Oh, yeah," He admitted with a nostalgic grin aimed at his daughter.

Natalie let go of her father's hand to run fifteen feet forward then turning around and waiting patiently for him to catch up before sprinting another fifteen feet. She ran around a cluster of tightly compacted trees.

Dean paused for a moment to hear her rapid footsteps crunch against the leaves but he heard nothing.

"Natalie." His pace quickened into a jog. "Natalie!"

"Daddy, look what I found," She came out from behind the trees with a long branch, the skin was smoothed over with an occasional burl on the surface.

"That's great, honey," Dean let out a heavy breath of relief. "Stay in my sight, got it?"

"Can I take it to Uncle Cas?"

He chuckled and took her hand. "What would Uncle Cas need with a branch?"

"I dunno," Nat shrugged truthfully.

Seeing the slight disappointment on her face, Dean continued, "But I'm sure if Uncle Cas got his feathery butt down here he would love it."

"How do you know it's feathery, daddy?"

"What?"

"How do you know that Uncle Cas' butt is feathery?" After a moment of silence she continued. "Daddy, can I have a boyfriend?"

"You're too young, sweetheart."

"When _can_ I have a boyfriend?"

"When you're daddy's age,"

"So, is Uncle Cas your boyfriend?"

"Sweetheart," Dean firmly said, swinging her up into his arms so he could look at her face while he spoke. "you are too young to have a boyfriend."

"Daddy," Her voice indicated that she had dismissed the boyfriend question and had a new topic at hand. "Daddy, would you still love me if I kicked a boy?"

"Did you kick a boy, Nat?"

"Would you still love me?" She pressed.

"Yes."

"Well, daddy, I kicked a boy when Uncle Adam took me to the playground."

"Why did you kick him, Nat?"

"He said that AC/DC was stupid. And I said he was stupid because you like AC/DC and I kicked him because I love you."

"Well, don't kick anyone anymore, Nat," Dean turned his face as far to the side as he could to hide the wide smile that spontaneously grew on his face.

"Daddy?"

"Yes, Nat?"

"Would you still love me if I crashed the 'pala?"

"Let's hope that never happens but _yes_, Nat. I would still love you."

"Daddy, would you still love me if I cut off all of Uncle Sam's hair when he's asleep?"

"I might love you a little more just for that, kiddo."

When the reached the dirt driveway, Nat squealed and jumped out of her father's arms to run with the large stick toward the tall man who stood on the porch in his dirty trench coat.

"Uncle Cas!" Nat squealed, running to the blue-eyed angel. "Uncle Cas! Uncle Cas!"

"Hello," Cas replied awkwardly, looking down at the jumping creature with morbid fascination before turning to Dean who had come soon after. "I don't understand, why is she jumping?"

Dean rolled his eyes and started. "She's happy to see you, Doctor Lector. Read a book. You might learn a thing or two."

"Uncle Cas, Uncle Cas! Uncle Cas, daddy and I were on a walk in the woods where he and Uncle Sam made a whole lotta little roads and I found this stick for you!" She held out the crooked branch up to him, excited to see if he would react like Uncle Bobby did when she gave him a completed page from her coloring book.

Would Uncle Cas hang her present on _his_ refrigerator? she wondered.

"Uh, thank you." The angel helplessly looked up at Dean, unsure what to do with the stick that Nat had shoved into his hands.

"Uncle Cas," Nat clasped her hands behind her back and began. "do you have a feathery butt?"

"Alright Nat," Dean quickly ushered her into the house, "go tell Uncle Sam to make you another sandwich."

"Daddy, would you still love me if I gave the sandwich to Rumsfeld?" Natalie called out from the kitchen.

If there was one thing that Dean Winchester knew without a shadow of a doubt it was that his daughter would grow up asking hypothetical questions reassuring her of his love.

"Yes, I would, sweetheart," He said only loud enough for him to hear.

_Yes, I would._

* * *

**Choices for the next chapter: **

**1. Nat gets sick and pretends to be a famous movie monster  
**

**2. Nat wants to know why scientists don't have girlfriends  
**

**3. Nat "steals" a turtle  
**

**Your choice :) If you have other ideas that you'd like to see PM me or leave your welcome suggestion in the review box! I recycle paper _and _ideas :)  
**


	6. Save the Turtles! Or Steal Them

**This is actually a true act committed by VanitasFajitas :) she's was nice enough to allow me to use her story for Nat :)**

* * *

"You gonna tell me what happened with , Natalie Winchester?" Dean was standing in the kitchen with his arms tightly crossed against his chest, looking down at his daughter who sat indifferently on her Uncle Sam's lap. Her small body was perfectly poised and cool but her eyes were thrown down on the ground to avoid her father's stern gaze.

"Daddy, she was going to sell Franklin!" Nat looked up with fierce conviction channelling through every muscle in her body.

"The turtle?" He asked slowly, his eyebrows arched speculatively.

She nodded.

"Miss Mathers," Dean finally explained with a strict undertone. "Miss Mathers told me that you always ask to go to the bathroom before naptime and don't come back until naptime is over."

"I hate naptime," Natalie folded her arms across her chest, imitating her father and sticking out her bottom lip in a pout.

"Dean," Sam lifted his niece so that she sat on the table which he ushered his older brother to the next room. "She's had a short streak of trouble-making...unlike you. Remember that time you threw eggs and smeared dad's shaving cream on that grumpy neighbors car in Los Angeles."

A wide smile crossed across Dean's face when he recalled the dull lecture he had received from the man in the motel room next door. "For ex-military, dad never used a lot of shaving cream."

"That's beside the point, Dean," Sam retorted under his breath, glancing back at Natalie who was desolately sitting in the same position on the table. "What that the teacher say to you?"

"Apparently there was the teacher across the hall was going to get rid of the class turtle - "

"His name was Franklin!" Nat called out, her face still stone hard.

"Franklin," Dean corrected himself. "_Franklin_ was going to live with some nice people in the mid-west." His eyes got big as he tried to imply to his younger brother that the turtle was about to die but couldn't bare to say it in front of his daughter. "So, Natalie..." Dean turned to the young girl with a sardonic smirk, "Why don't you tell Uncle Sammy what you did next, Nat."

She let out a loud sigh, not looking up to see the silence smile that was on her father's face because she thought he was mad at her. Nat slid off the table top and walked to her Uncle, motioning him to crouch down so she could whisper in his ear.

"I just borrowed Franklin from Mrs Young's room. She wasn't there, Uncle Sammy. And I put Franklin in my backpack."

Sam pursed his lips into a thin line to keep from chuckling at his niece's act. So he just kissed her forehead and said, "Stealing is wrong, Nat."

"I didn't steal, Uncle Sam!" She cried. "I borrowed Franklin without permission and Miss Mathers made me erase the chalkboard as a punishment."

"Is that why you're covered in dust?" Sam let out a laugh and brushed the chalk from her Cinderella shirt; his dimples showing how amused he was.

Nat smiled too but didn't dare look up at her father.

"I'll make you some lunch, okay, possum?" Her Uncle left her standing next to Dean while he rummaged around the fridge trying to find enough material for a grilled-cheese sandwich.

"Hey, Nat," Dean pulled her into his arms, a warm smile spread across his face. "I still love you more than the whole wide world. Hear me?"

"More than Uncle Sammy?" She questioned.

"Yes, sweetheart," he teased. "I love you more than I love Uncle Sammy."

"I'm sorry, daddy. I won't do it ever again." Nat reached up and, once Dean had leaned over, she kissed his cheek with a loud smack.

* * *

**Choices for the next chapter: **

**1. Nat has a thing or two to say to a mean teenager because no one makes fun of Daddy!  
**

**2. Nat draws her own report card to show Dean  
**

**3. The Winchester's visit Washington D.C.  
**

**Your choice :) If you have other ideas that you'd like to see PM me or leave your welcome suggestion in the review box! I recycle paper _and _ideas :)  
**


	7. Daddy's Cool Like Mountain Dew

**Not the choice you wanted? Don't worry! I recycle paper _and _ideas :)**

* * *

"Daddy," Nat purposefully clomped down the rickety stairs of Bobby's house; her hand grazing over the bannister which had been smoothed down by several sandings over the years which also pulled at the original coat of paint set down by Bobby Singer himself for his wife. Dean, by chance, had just come into the house with Adam following close behind with a large duffel.

"Remember not to shy from the salt use." The oldest Winchester reminded as Adam shoved three large canisters of rock salt into the duffel. "Just because it gives you osteoporosis doesn't mean it's not good for you."

"Yeah," Adam rolled his eyes, grabbing the keys to his car from the small hook beside the fridge. "Thanks."

"Don't go, Uncle Adam!" Natalie wrapped her arms around his legs, holding on tight so he couldn't take a step closer toward the door.

"I have to though, sweetheart." He gently began prying her fingers from his jeans so he could crouch down to her level. "I promise when I come back we can play any game you want, okay? What's your favorite thing to play? Candyland? Uno?"

She pouted slightly, her lips trembling. "Together,"

"Well," He brushed loose tresses of her wild hair behind her ear. "I'll be back before you even know I'm gone."

"Promise?"

"I promise, Nat," Adam kissed her forehead and quickly walked out the door, leaving Natalie and her father standing in the middle of the kitchen.

"Want to play with me, Nat?" Dean offered; his heart ached in his chest when she silently declined.

She stalked toward the fridge and yanked the door open. "Daddy, there's no more mountain dew."

"No more mountain pee?" He peered over her head into the nearly empty fridge, save the large stock of beer. "We'll have to go to the store and get some, shouldn't we?"

A shadow of a smile came on Nat's lips as she nodded in agreement, sprinting to the coat closet to grab her polka-dotted wellingtons even though it was a bright summer day.

Once she was buckled into the back seat of the Impala, Dean put the radio on and often glanced at his daughter through the rear-view mirror, engrossed in the subtle features which resembled him in her face.

"Daddy?"

"Yes?"

"Can we listen to the Oysters?"

"Who're the Oysters, Nat?"

"You know them, daddy. They're the ones who sings this: And I'm burnin', I'm burnin', I'm burnin' for youuuu." She abruptly stopped when she caught sight of the smile on her father's face and looked away shyly.

"You mean, Blue Oyster Cult, sweetheart? Yeah, we can listen to them," Dean grinned, his forest green eyes twinkling when he saw Nat moving her lips to the lyrics that she knew.

Sioux Falls didn't accommodate the large chain stores like SafeWay or even Wal-Mart so when Dean pulled the Impala into a local gas station, Nat was itching to get out and explore the convenience store next door.

"Go grab some of your mountain pee, Nat," Dean joked and nudged his daughter toward the tall coolers that lined the far corner of the small store.

The seventeen year old cashier leaned on the counter with his elbows, obviously bored of serving strangers during his eight hour shift with little pay.

"Hey man," Dean approached the counter, following the cashier's eyes glued to Natalie who bound toward her father with a large bottle of Mountain Dew. "you wanna stop staring at my kid. Hey!" He slammed his palm on the counter to get the cashier attention.

"Chill, asshole," The teen sneered.

"You're mean!" Nat shouted angrily, a menacing line forming between her eyes as she glared up at the surprised cashier. "Daddy's cool!"

"That's right," Dean grinned smugly at the cashier and threw down a five dollar bill. "Keep the change."

"That was cool, daddy," Natalie giggled as Dean strapped her into the backseat, making sure the bottle of Mountain Dew was safe in her hands.

* * *

**Choices for the next chapter: **

**1. Nat gets sick and pretends to be a famous movie monster to pass the time  
**

**2. Nat draws her own report card to show Dean  
**

**3. "Daddy, why don't scientist have girlfriends?"  
**

**Your choice :) If you have other ideas that you'd like to see PM me or leave your welcome suggestion in the review box!  
**


	8. Natalie Bueller?

**Not the choice you wanted? Don't worry! I recycle paper _and _ideas :)**

* * *

"Sam," Dean huffed into the phone like a mother hen that had her feathers ruffled on purpose. "can you or can you not tell me what's wrong with my daughter?"

Even though Dean had grown up wiping Sam's runny nose as a child, the sudden overwhelming tendency of fatherhood to overreact had him approaching the common cold as if it was the bubonic plague.

"Calm down, Dean," Sam assured calmly, catching the erratic rise and fall of his older brother's breath on the other end. "from the symptoms that you've said, it sounds like she just has a cold."

Dean glanced over his shoulder to look at his daughter.

Natalie had her legs crossed under the covers of the large bed; 'criss-cross apple sauce' as she had said. She was wholly concentrated on the jumbo coloring book that Adam had bought for her before he left on his last job. And even though she was young, her fingers were curved gracefully around the slender crayons.

She never broke one.

Dean diverted his attention from the crayons to her pale face. She was somber and quiet; all her gusto and energy had drained out of her babyish face.

"...just make sure she drinks a lot of fluids. Gatorade's good. Natalie likes the blue Gatorade. Make sure she gets plenty of sleep too." Sam seemed to drone on, almost inaudibly, at the back of Dean's conscious since he was so fixated on his daughter.

Natalie, on the other hand, was bored. Being cramped up in a tiny motel room wasn't fun. Even if she was with her daddy. Uncle Sam had bought her crayons - a whole big box filled

with crayons that were in every color that she could ever imagine and take in a one time.

But coloring in the big coloring book had gotten boring too.

There was nothing on t.v. but old people shows that weren't even in color!

Nat looked at daddy. He seemed tired. His shoulders were slouched and his eyes were droopy when he loudly sat down on the chair near the door.

Nat wanted to make him feel better! Because daddy looked sick.

"Rawr," She curled her fingers in like claws and rolled to the floor on her hands and knees. With teeth tightly clenched, she slowly stalked toward Dean, hiding behind the bed.

Dean, whose eyes were glued to his daughter's shenanigans, cracked a smile when Natalie peeked her head over the bed sheets and quickly ducked down when she found him staring at her. So when he pretended to not look, Nat ran and threw her arms around his knees, using the legs of the chair to climb into his lap.

"I'm Godzilla, and you're the Empire State Building!"

He chuckled, loosely wrapping his arms around her so she wouldn't tumble down to the ground. "I think you mean King Kong, sweetheart."

Natalie stopped, innocuously looking up at his face. After a moment she giggled and said, "Buildings can't talk, daddy." and sat snugly against her chest.

"Aren't you supposed to be sick?"

A sneaky smile spread across her small mouth. "Uncle Adam let me watch Ferris Bueller before he left."

"So you pretended to be sick just like Ferris Bueller?!" Dean questioned, leaning his forehead against hers.

Nat nodded, laughing again because she saw the smile on her daddy's mouth. "Did I trick you, daddy?"

"Yes," He kissed her nose. "yes, you did."

She put her hand on either side of his face and seriously looked into his eyes. "I'm sowi, daddy. I won't trick you again. Oh, daddy, I drew you a picture!" She ran to the bed and shuffled through a half dozen papers before finding the right one.

With careful lines, Nat had drawn a picture of a man with a small oval head with several lines poking out of the top for hair, the eyes were two big green dots, the nose looked like a sideways 'v' and the mouth was a line curved up into a smile so large that was almost wider than the head. The man's body was drawn in two colors, orange and green. The orange part looked like an undershirt and the green over-shirt extended down the man's long arms to tiny fingers poking out of the sleeves and clutching on to the drawn fingers of a small girl in a peach triangle shaped dress, with squiggly black curls that went all the way down to her back.

"That's you and me," She explained, "I'm not done yet, I still have to draw Uncle Sam, Uncle Bobby, and Uncle Adam, and Uncle Cas and Rummy. Do you like it so far, daddy?"

"I love it," He grinned. "Just like I love you."

* * *

**I'll be leaving for India for my cousin's wedding on July 3rd so before then I really want to write for some grown up Nat since ya'll wanted to read that.**

**1. Nat's first kiss**

**2. Teenage!Nat meets Uncle Adam's girlfriend**

**If you have other ideas that you'd like to see PM me or leave your welcome suggestion in the review box! I'm all ears!  
**


	9. Nothing New, Just a Note

**Unfortunately, this is not a new chapter, as you can clearly see. ****I am very, very sorry! **

**It's been a hectic few weeks and I swear I've done more shopping in three days then I have ever wanted to do in a lifetime! I will post a new chapter of Natalie's first kiss when I come back from India in August! ****You can hold me to that!**

**Also, I'm a big photography buff so if anyone wants some pictures from my trip or just want to give me ideas for future chapters than just shoot me a PM! I won't have internet access from the next month so I'll get to you as soon as possible!**

**Have an awesome summer, my dears :)**

**-wandertogondor**


	10. I Want You to Be Proud of Me, Daddy

Dear Diary,

You know how in every chick flick ever made by the _totally_ original monkeys of Hollywood, they say that your very first kiss will be like fireworks exploding? Well, it's not. It's just a stupid euphemism to give us girls unreal expectations when the real situation comes up because every naïve girl in those movies _always_ know what to do.

Too bad no one bothered to give me the memo.

I guess being sheltered by five men who were armed to the teeth hadn't helped my growing up process. I spent hours coaxing and pleading with my father to let me go out on a date with the running back in my high school's football team. Initially he refused but I think Uncle Sam put in a good word for me so I won the round.

When I knocked on Nick Jones' door I half-expected his mother to answer but when Nick himself answered the door, pulling me in with wide grin, I knew something was off.

"My parents went out to dinner so it's just you and me, beautiful." He led me down to the basement and fumbled with the television.

It may be a surprise to you, but I don't get out much. My dad was hella paranoid and always had someone-whether it was Uncle Sam or Uncle Adam-pick me up from school when he wouldn't be able to. He even sent Uncle Cas on one occasion. Let me just say that my father will not be making that mistake again. LOL! Anyway, to lessen the awkwardness of the situation, I looked through the rows upon rows of books that lined one side of the wall in the small basement. Nick wrapped his arms around my waist from behind, pulled me against his body and inched backwards so we fell on the couch together. He laughed as we untangled our limbs from each others and sat properly as the season 3 premiere of "The Walking Dead" began.

Nick had his arm wrapped around me and began peppering scattered kisses along my neck then to my jaw and cheek-coming closer and closer to my mouth. It wasn't until I felt his lips press against the corner of my mouth that I turned to him, unsure of what to do. My body twisted uncomfortably but that didn't matter because before I knew it I felt his wet lips on mine.

I suddenly became painfully self-conscious about what was going on. My mind sensed the taste of his mouth and the feeling of the tip of his tongue enter my mouth.

Helplessly, I tried easing into the kiss but somehow I forgot how to function and prayed that my father, or his parents for that matter, didn't burst in.

"Don't use your teeth." He smoothly said, his fingertips snaking up my shirt and tightening against my back.

Another helpless moan vibrated off my throat and I nudged him away. "Please don't do that without asking me."

"Come on, babe," Nick smirked, playfully sliding his fingers under my bra strap and running his hand toward the front of my body. "don't be such a prude."

With one yank, I pulled his hand out from under my shirt and jumped to my feet. "I said don't do that,"

"Sorry," He rolled his eyes and sarcastically put his hands up like he was surrendering. "Can I touch your boobs?"

I guess I have my overprotective father to thank for teaching me how to throw a punch because for all Nick was worth as a football player...he had a jaw of glass and fell unconscious on the couch. I grabbed my light coat that I had shed in the foyer and sprinted the short mile to Bobby's house.

It was the longest mile of my life.

When I entered the dark house through the backdoor hoping not to wake anyone, I was surprised to see everyone but Uncle Cas gathered in the kitchen for a game of Texas Hold 'Em.

"How'd it go?" Uncle Sam asked, pushing his overgrown hair behind his ear and smiling warmly.

I smiled back sarcastically. "Guys are assholes."

My father twisted around in his seat to correct me. "Natalie Winchester. Watch your mouth."

I blanched, looking from Uncle Adam to my father than to Uncle Sam for help. "That asshole-"

"Language!" My father shouted again. I groaned and stomped up to my room. He had changed. I remember when he used to baby me and reassure me of his love everyday but now my dad just seemed distant and indifferent.

All I want to do is make him proud.

I'm his little soldier.

I never question his judgement.

And I always follow his orders.

As I flung myself face-first on my pillow, I hated him. With every inch of my body I hated my father. I must have fell asleep in a few minutes because I woke up to the sound of my door creaking open and heavy footsteps landing on the floorboards.

"Uncle Sam?" I drowsily called out, forcing my head up off the pillow that I hugged.

"No, sweetheart, it's me."

"Daddy?"

He sat on the edge of my bed and put a hand on my shoulder. "How're you feeling, Nat?"

"Okay," My voice was jumbled in the dark. "Where's Uncle Sam?"

"He's downstairs. I came up to see how you were doing before I make a little trip to your date's house. What's his name? Night?"

He knew what Nick's name was. He just wanted me to feel better. And it worked.

I chuckled. "Nick, daddy. Who name's their kids 'Night' anyway?"

"That one guy Salamander. You know, the guy who directed _The Sixth Sense_."

"M. Night Shamalan?"

"See," He nudged me gently. "even you can't say his name right." That made me break a smile through the firm line I had set my mouth in.

"I'm sorry that I cursed."

"It's okay, baby." He kissed my forehead, squeezing my hand, making me wince. "What's wrong?" My dad quickly turned on the lamp on the bedside table and took one look of surprise at the bruised and swollen fist I had used to punch Nick with.

"Daddy?"

"Yeah," He mumbled, preoccupied with turning my wrist every which way to make sure it wasn't broken.

"I don't think you have to visit Nick's house." I could tell that that made him smile, even if the room was still too dark for me to tell.

"I'm proud of you, Natalie Winchester. I am everyday."

"Daddy?" I inquired again, a bit childishly.

"Yes?"

"Do you still love me?"

"I never stopped loving you, sweetheart."

I buried my face back into my pillow so he wouldn't be able to see the wide grin of relief on my mouth.

He stood. "Want me to wrap your hand? It may hurt a little tomorrow."

Oh, no! It hurt like a bitch now.

But I wouldn't admit it to him or anyone. "I'm okay. I'm too old for you to be babying me."

"You're sixteen, sweetheart." He clucked like a mother hen, chuckling when I shrugged comically with my face still squished on the sheets. "I'll let you sleep."

I panicked for a moment when I heard him going back toward the door. "Hey, dad?"

He turned just as I propped myself up on my elbow. "Uncle Bobby has a pair of aces."

My father's mouth curved upward. "Good thing I have a two pairs then, right, kiddo?"

I think I loved him a little more just for that.

* * *

**I'm all out of ideas unfortunately. Anyone have anything?  
**


	11. Dad, I Want To Go On the Hunt With You

**FallingStar95, this one's for you :) **

**This is the longest one-shot I have ever written. At first I was a bit hesitant as to how I would properly write this out but I started, tried my best, and just kept the bus rolling for as long as I could and boom! this is what came of it. Honestly, I think this is my favorite chapter, thus far. I hope ya'll like it as much as I do :)**

**Thank you for your continued support! **

* * *

Dear Diary,

It may come to a surprise to you that the word 'too' is a good word to accompany just about every adjective you could possibly use to describe my family.

For example:

My dad is _too_ overprotective.

Uncle Sam is _too_ tall and _too_ sensitive.

Uncle Bobby is _too_ busy being drunk.

Uncle Adam is _too_ preoccupied with the 'Family Business.'

And Uncle Cas? Uncle Cas is _too_...he's just _too_ much everything!

See what I mean?

And I, not to be excluded from this rule, am just _too_ ignorant to realize that my family is a bunch of nuts who go overboard on everything.

With my family, there were always secrets, and there were always whispers, but at the end of the day you could _always_ count on the fact that there would always be cold beer in the fridge.

Cold beer is important in my family.

Beer is like our lifeline.

It's our emotional S.O.S.

But beer isn't what got me in trouble. Not this time, anyway.

Uncle Adam and Uncle Sam were talking about how there was a nest of vampires in Athens, Ohio that needed to be taken out and I knew that I wanted part of it. I watched _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_. How hard could taking out vamps be? So I tried approaching my father the honest way. I plastered on my best smile and walked up to him as he was drinking a beer at the table, looking out the bay window at the garage.

"Hey, daddy," I acted as casual and auspicious as I could.

My father took a small sip of his beer, gave me a sarcastic little smile, and said, "You been practicing, princess?"

"Practicing what?" I asked innocuously, sitting at the empty seat to his left.

He raised one finger off the bottle he held to point at me. "That act of yours. I know you've been practicing on your Uncles."

I hunched my shoulders in defeat and shrugged. It wasn't the hunter in him talking and guessing my plays, it was the father in him. He was reading his child like a book. And he was turning the pages too because before I knew it I blurted out,

"Dad, I want to go on the hunt with you."

He chuckled and set his half-empty bottle down on the tabletop. "No."

I rolled my eyes, throwing one hand up sarcastically. "Wow, dad. Didn't see that one coming."

"Nice try, kiddo."

"I don't understand why you won't let me go. I'm grown up and I can take care of myself!"

"I'm not arguing with you, Natalie. The answer is no." He said firmly, starting to get up and walk away before I opposed more.

"Why?" I shouted after him as he went into the living room, leaving me at the table. "Don't you trust me?"

He stopped. I didn't know if I said something wrong or if he was reconsidering. Then he turned to me, his tired face was pulled into a stern expression. "I trust you." Hey, good sign. "I know you can take care of yourself when it comes to douchebags like Nick, but you can't take care of yourself when it comes to the things that go bump in the night. Nat, you don't understand the seriousness of what we do. You don't understand how real these things we hunt are. They can kill you and they won't hesitate to do so. So when I say no. I mean no. Even if you begged me to go to a Justin Bieber concert..." I stuck my tongue out in disgust, making him crack a smile halfway through his sentence. "...I would say yes. But not to this."

I took a deep breath, and nodded. "Okay, daddy."

"Do you still love me, baby?"

"Yes," I admitted weakly, walking into his arms for a tight hug. "I understand why you don't want me to hunt yet."

"I hope I can avoid putting you in a situation where you have to." He leaned over to kiss my forehead.

"Well, what if I am in a situation where I need to know how to protect myself. What do I do then?"

He cupped a hand under my chin, raising my head so I could meet his eye. "I will never put you in a situation like that. I will always be here to protect you. Natalie, remember, you may not know a lot about what goes on in the hunting world but..." My father's eyebrows came together in distress and he stopped mid-sentence. "Nevermind. We'll cross that bridge when we come to it." He was talking more to himself than to me.

He did that a lot recently.

"When are you and Uncle Sam leaving?" I asked, stepping out from his embrace.

My father sighed, put one hand on my face, and stroked my cheek bone. "Soon,"

"I don't want to watch you go again, dad. I'll be in my room, okay? I'll see you when you get back." Without another look at him I started up the stairs.

"Take care of Uncle Bobby." My dad reminded behind me. It's what he always said to me before he ever left on a hunt.

And I would always respond "Oh-kay," in a sing-songy voice because I knew exactly what he was going to tell me every time he was about to leave. I've had sixteen years of practice.

I made sure to walk slowly down the hallway so he wouldn't catch on. Though as soon as I got into my room, I locked the door and opened the window for a quicker escape. Rummaging through my underwear drawer, where I knew knew for a fact that no one would ever poke around in, I pulled out a pistol that I had stole - no, no, _borrowed_ - from the trunk of the Impala and made sure the safety was on before I tucked it into the large pocket of my canvas jacket.

Most of the cool cats in movies always find the need to tuck their guns in the small of their back. I must admit it looks pretty badass but I'm not too fond of it. For one, I don't want the cold muzzle of the gun rubbin' all against my buttcrack, and two, it'd be awkward trying to explain to the hospital staff that you shot yourself in the ass by accident because you wanted to look like Bruce Willis.

Are you seeing where I'm going with this? Right, good.

I sat on the window sill with one leg dangling against the side of the house and the other leg safely hanging just over the wooden floorboards. I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself. It would be a gross understatement to say that I've only snuck out a couple of times but I've never snuck out to hop on the 'Family-Business'-hunting bandwagon which everyone complained about.

I don't understand what's so emotionally scarring about driving around the country hunting ghosts and spirits. Ever since I was a little girl I knew that I was never afraid of anything...except snakes. I cannot stand snakes. But I digress.

After a two minutes of trying to talk myself into making a decision, I finally hauled my other leg over the side of the sill and pressed my palms against the window pane so I could ease my body down as far as I could before I fell into the bushes. The fall wasn't as bad as I pictured it sitting up on the window. I got my legs twisted together for a moment but I tucked my chin in before I felt the impact at the bottom. Before the pain could even reach my brain, I got up and spirited as fast as I could to the Impala, wiggling into the area underneath the back seat and covered myself up with some crusty fast food wrappers.

It wasn't long until the passenger seat opened and Uncle Sam sat down with a loud huff, humming "Vision" by some dude named Jason Manns. My dad would always poke fun at him for it. But the way I figure it, it's not all about drowning things out. Uncle Sam just lets things float above water. He acknowledges the good and ignores the bad. That's what I love most about him.

The trunk of the Impala groaned open, followed by a loud thud which made the car shake slightly. That sound meant that my dad had finished his quick routine check of the arsenal and was coming toward the driver's door.

"You have no idea how pumped I am to gank some vamps, Sammy." My dad chuckled, starting up his car. "Damn. Can you hear her waking up?" He meant the Impala's engine. "My baby sounds good." Pause. "What's up with you?"

"You can't protect Natalie forever, Dean."

"The hell I can't," He snapped. I could tell that now he was changing the gears and had twisted his body around to back up from the salvage yard, one hand was on the steering wheel and the other was most probably on the back of the passenger headrest.

"She needs to know." Uncle Sam said resolutely. "She thinks hunting is like punching guys who piss her off in the face. She. Needs. To. Know."

"Know what, Sam?" My father spat, changing gears again and stepping on the accelerator. "Natalie needs to know that she's just about damned because her last name's Winchester? Do you really think she needs me to explain to her that I had to kill her mother because a demon was just too far gone in her? I don't think so!"

I bit my cheek to keep from gasping out in ugly sobs.

"She's sixteen, Dean." Uncle Sam went on, more softly now. I don't know how I could have heard him over the sound of the roaring engine. "She's old enough to know about Danielle."

"I said no, Sam."

The next half hour would have been spent in awkward silence if my dad hadn't started playing his cassette tapes. I couldn't help but crack a smile through my devastation to hear Zeppelin's "D'yer Mak'er" blare through the speakers which were right next to my head. That was one of my favorite songs by Zeppelin, right next to "Travelling Riverside Blues" and "No Quarter." Like father, like daughter...music made us feel better in a weird, twisted way. Music suppressed unnecessary feelings.

The Impala finally came to a stop after an uncomfortable ride up a mountain of sorts. The roads were winding and had a lot of hair-pin bends at first then the terrain just became rocky and bumpy.

"So," It was Uncle Sam talking in a casual tone. "do you want the shotgun or should I take the machete?"

My father groaned. I could almost see him rolling his eyes. "There are enough machete's to go around, Sam. What's up with you? You're so jumpy, I might as well just have brought Nat along with me. She would do a better job of covering my ass than you right now."

"I dunno, man. I just feel like something's off about this."

"Off about the hunt or...?"

"No," Uncle Sam tried explaining. "I mean, something's just not right."

There was a long pause before my dad spoke. "Wow, Sam. You sure cleared that one up. Let's go. I wanna get this over with." The driver's door groaned open.

"Why?"

"Because I wanna get home to my kid! Now, let's go! Get your butt in gear."

I waited a few minutes after that to make sure they were gone before I popped my head up, making the wrappers rustle and crunch under my weight. To scout out the landscape, I turned my head every which way. We were parked in a thicket of trees off road at the base of a hill. At the top of the hill sat an old cabin with dim lights coming out from the windows. From where I sat, I could just make out the dark figures of my father and my Uncle.

I quickly exited the car, shutting the back door as softly as I could possibly manage, and stalked up to the cabin while crouching low. Up until the point when I reached the cabin, I felt totally confident in myself, but as I went toward the back where I had last seen my Uncle, I started to feel uneasy and unsure. My dad was right. I wasn't ready and I didn't understand. But I was too far gone to make my point clear that I was able to take care of myself and I wouldn't go back and hide in the Impala.

I went back around to the front of the cabin. That was when the chaos started. There was loud screaming from inside but before I could peek through the front window, the cabin door flew open and a vampire burst through, sharp fangs bared. I must have let out a yelp of surprise because one second I was standing on my own two feet and the other second I'm knocked down and wearing a rabid, giant vampire which was trying sink its fangs into my skin. All of a sudden, between the struggling and the kicking and the rush of adrenaline, I cursed myself for not putting that pistol in a more convenient place...like tucked at the small of my back, for instance.

"Daddy!" I screamed at the top of my lungs, thrashing my legs about, trying to get them under the vamps body so I could kick it off of me. The most I could do, aside from grabbing its neck with my hands at a vain attempt to choke it, was to head butt it. I can never really explain if what I felt at that moment was fear or the satisfaction that I was still alive. "Dad!"

The vampire's movements became more erratic and violent. Its jaws were just inches from my face and just when I was about to stop fighting, I heard a roar and the stomach-churning sound of a blade slicing through flesh. The vamps head was dismembered from its body and rolled on the grass beside me. When I looked up, my father's eyes met mine. He leaned over and yanked the corpse from off me, wiped the splattered blood from his cheek, and stood waiting for me to stand. But I couldn't. There was an excruciating pain pulsating from my side.

"Dad," I looked up at him. "I can't get up."

The look in his face went from anger to panic in a split second. He fell at my side, screamed for Uncle Sam, and found the large wound on my side. I was covered not only in the vampire's blood but also in my own. They couldn't tell if the vampire's blood had mixed with mine and settled in the wound. At that moment, I honestly didn't care. I just wanted to tell my dad how sorry I was for disobeying him.

"Daddy?" I was shivering. It was a warm summer night and I was shivering. "Dad?"

I saw my father's face quickly come into my line of sight. He looked worried. "Shhh. Honey, don't talk. We're going to get you back to Bobby's. You're fine, honey, listen to me." He picked me up in his arms, vigilant not to disturb my position too much or else the blood's would mix if it hadn't done so already.

They say pain is in the mind, but as hard as I tried to tell myself that I couldn't feel, I just felt more pain. My dad got into the backseat, still holding me in his warm arms, while Uncle Sam drove.

"Daddy?" I craned my neck up to see his face. "Daddy?" He didn't seem to hear me. I tried again, forcing myself to try to be louder. "Daddy?"

He looked down, eyes red and swollen.

"Daddy, I'm so sorry. I'm sorry."

"Baby, just stay still, okay?" His voice was hoarse from swallowing painful sobs. "You're going to be fine."

"Pro-promise?"

"Yes, sweetheart. I promise I won't let anything happen to you."

That was the last thing I remember him saying before I closed my eyes.

*****Daddy'll Hold You All Night*****

I took in deep breaths, keeping my eyes shut tight. My body felt tensed and sore. The first thing I thought to do was run my tongue over my teeth to feel for fangs.

"Daddy?" It was little less than a whisper.

A warm hand covered mine. I immediately could tell that it wasn't my father's or Uncle Sam's. It was a new set of hands that I had never felt before. I slowly opened my eyes, scrunching my face up when the sun hit my face. Much to my surprise, Uncle Cas, of all people, sat at the bedside.

"Am I a vampire?"

He didn't bother giving me a comforting smile, all he did was shake his head which was as reassuring as I could get with him.

"Where's my dad?"

Uncle Cas motioned his head to the window seat. My father was awkwardly sprawled on the seat which was entirely too small for him. (There's that word 'too' again.)

"He just fell asleep." Uncle Cas said in his same monotonous voice. He was still wooden and a bit frustrating to be with but, at that moment, I enjoyed being alive. "He sat up with you all night."

"Really?"

"Nat?" My heart jumped when I heard his soothingly drowsy voice. "Is she awake, Cas?"

Uncle Cas nodded, looking down at me with hints of affection. That's when I realized that Uncle Cas was _too_ unpredictable. He could go from being the most boring angel on the planet to the one angel who can actually feel and convey emotions in a subtle way.

"Nat, sweetheart?" My father crouched at the bedside, smiling, his whole face brightened.

"Hey, daddy." I returned a weak smile. "What's my punishment?"

"You're punishment?" He twisted his mouth to the side, deep in thought. "You're punishment is that you have to stay in this room for the next two weeks with only Uncle Cas here for company."

"That doesn't sound too bad," I lied, chuckling.

"You better keep practicing, Nat, I'm still not buying it."

"So, you're not mad at me?"

"I'm furious."

"Do you still love me?"

"I can never stop loving my own kid, can I?"

"Stop answering my questions with questions, dad."

"Stop asking so many then." He reached over to ruffle my hair.

"I won't disobey you again, daddy."

My father smiled softly. "You won't disobey me for the next two weeks, I know."

You know how I said that it was a comforting thought to know that there was always cold beer in the fridge after a hard day? But instead of beer, I think I meant that it was nice to know that your family is always waiting at home and willing to forgive you after you've become a hot mess and made a big mess of things.

But that doesn't mean they'll help clean up your mess. If only life was that easy...

No, they're just _too_ bent on making sure you'll be a good person when you're thrown into hot water down the road.

They just want you to be the best person you can possibly be.

I didn't need to be a good hunter to make my father happy. I didn't need to go overboard and be labeled as too much of one thing.

I just need to be the best person I can be.

* * *

**Thanks to FallingStar95, Asellia Skyrunner, and RealWinchesterGirl95 I have suggestions for a few more chapters! **

**1. Nat has a girl's night out with a certain hunter, a close friend of the Winchester's **

**2. Nat asks Dean about her mother, Danielle**

**3. Nat, too, has to deal with her Uncle Adam bringing home girls to meet the family. **


	12. Uncle Adam's New Girl

**A huge shout out to Asellia Skyrunner who was kind enough to allow me to use her OC, Lucy, for this chapter! Thank you! And please check out Lucy's story "Young, Not Stupid" on Asellia Skyrunner's page! I swear, you won't be disappointed!**

_**Northanger Abbey**_** is written by Jane Austen, so I can't take any credit for much of anything except Natalie. **

**I hope you'll like this chapter :)**

* * *

"Natalie!"

I looked up from my book and immediately let my gaze drift to the front door of the house. My Uncle Adam came bursting through the creaky, netted storm door soon after my name had been called. He lifted his head for a brief moment at the porch, caught sight of me sitting on the metal roofing of the garage, and stalked toward the garage with long strides. He was stressed about something...he didn't try very hard to conceal it.

Uncle Adam stopped under the ladder which I used to climb up, and put his hand against his eyebrows to squint. "Didn't Bobby tell you to stop using this ladder to get up there?"

I strained my neck forward to glance down at him. "He might have mentioned it once or trice."

"Well, could you get your butt down here?"

"Why?" I whined, throwing my legs over the side of the building and kicking the metal roofing with my heels in opposition.

"No one likes whiney people, Nat." He said from below, already holding the rusted over ladder steady for me to start coming down.

"_I_ like you, Uncle Adam." I grinned down, motioning him to catch the book I was about to throw to him.

He smirked, catching the copy of _Northanger Abbey_ easily, and muttered, "Smartass."

As soon as I had my feet planted firmly on the ground, I turned to take the book from my Uncle's hands. "Is my dad calling me or something?"

"No," He replied; the look in his eyes telling me that he'd explain as we walked back to the house.

"Where is everyone anyway?" I just noticed that Uncle Adam had been the first real person I had seen all morning.

"Your dad and Sam got an emergency call from some guy from Maine. They left early this morning. And Bobby's on a job with Rufus so it's just you and me for a couple of days."

"What're we going to do?" I climbed the faded steps and asked, reaching out to open the storm door.

"I," Uncle Adam started, "am going to meet someone. You, on the other hand, are going to clean this entire house."

My jaw dropped. "I thought slavery was abolished." He chuckled, starting for the kitchen. I followed on his heel. "Well, what's her name?"

"It's a secret."

With a sarcastic laugh, I sat on the only chair at the table which wasn't covered in books and crap. I lazily leaned against the kitchen table, watching Uncle Adam cook lunch at the stove. My head was propped up by one hand and my mouth hung open stupidly. Even though my Uncle had his back to me, I could tell that he had an enchanted smile on his mouth. It made me happy to see him so enthralled by a woman. Hell, I would have smiled too if half my face wasn't numb from being uncomfortably pressed against my arm.

He threw a dish towel over his shoulder and glanced back at me. I sat up curiously, closing my mouth and tracing my tongue absently around my parched lips. "I'm not going to hug you."

Without a word, he pointed one finger to the side of his face trying to tell me that I had saliva dribbling down my check. I screwed my face up, and wiped my mouth with the sleeve of my sweatshirt which was conveniently lying on top of a stack of books by my feet.

"How long have you been with said girl?" I sparked the topic up again, trying to readjust myself comfortably in my seated position. I threw one leg over the top of the chair and laid across the table, arms dangling over the side. "Uncle Adam? How long've you been with her?"

"About a year,"

I shot up. "A whole year!? You didn't think of telling me until now?"

"Calm down, Nat." He got two plates from the cupboard and distributed an equal amount of spiced chicken with white rice onto each. "It's not as big as a deal as you're making it out to be." He sat at the table, setting one plate beside my face. "She's...she just wouldn't understand the whole full-time hunting gig. She's been through a lot of crap."

My expressions softened. "Can you invite her over?" I carefully approached. "I think I'd like to meet her."

Uncle Adam chuckled, looking up at me with meaningful eyes. "She'd like you."

"Well," I shrugged, trying to make light of the heavy moment that had fallen between my Uncle and I. "a little more estrogen and a little less testosterone would be nice every now and then."

He nodded, spearing another cube of chicken onto his fork.

*****Daddy'll Hold You All Night*****

I fell asleep on top of the table soon after that conversation. When I awoke, I was lying in the living room. The afternoon sun shone brightly from the large bay window and I buried my dewy face in the crook of my arm for a moment before standing. A few birds sat on top of the beaten down cars, singing loudly and clearly before my ears caught the pitter-patter of Rumsfeld's feet followed by a sharp screeching

Need I say that the birds stopped their singing?

The plate that my Uncle had made for me still sat on the table, this time covered in saran wrap. I peeled off the thin sheet of plastic, grabbed a fork, and shovelled the cold rice and chicken into my mouth. The Impala still wasn't in the garage. I don't know why I bothered looking out the kitchen window. I should have gotten used to my father just leaving in the middle of the night, and letting me couch surf with whomever was available or could afford to stay back.

I stopped fighting it a long time ago.

"Uncle Adam?" Wandering to the windows that looked out over the front 'yard', I saw my Uncle standing with a beautiful, slim-built woman. She had light brown hair and, from what I could tell from hiding in the shadows, no hips. I mean, she had somewhat of a curve but it wasn't too prominent unless you, too, are a girl and can discern such attributes in another female.

I wanted so much to dislike her.

But the way my Uncle meltingly looked at her profile and smiled was enough for me to tell myself that she was okay in my book.

Swallowing a grin, I backed up toward the stairs. I wasn't about to ruin their moment. But just as I put my foot on the first step, the front door opened and my Uncle caught sight of me.

"Hey," There was a smile in his voice that reached his eyes. "you're up."

I turned awkwardly and nodded.

"Do you want to meet Lucy? She's outside." He saw the hesitation in my face. "She's nice, Nat."

"I don't want to ruin your...moments."

He rolled his eyes and came forward to lead me out. "She's been asking about you ever since she got here."

As much as I was being forced out of my comfort zone in regular situations by my Uncle Sammy, having to meet new people was still a chore for me. I put on my best smile just as I was pushed onto the porch.

My head spontaneously turned to the side. She was beautiful but her brown eyes, despite shining brightly, appeared tired...like she had seen traumatic things that she never deserved to see.

"Hi," She smiled, holding out a hand. "I'm Lucy. You must be Natalie."

"Hi," I reached out to take her hand, acknowledging her perfectly curved fingers. "It's nice to finally meet you."

Lucy smiled again, her eyes drifting up to my Uncle's face. I envied that look on their faces. It must have been nice to have someone to love and care about you like that.

"You have a pretty awesome uncle here," There was that stupid grin on Uncle Adam's face when she said that. "You must be lucky to have him with you."

"Oh, you can keep him." I remarked teasingly, trying to inch for the door before things got entirely too awkward for me. "And don't bring him back until morning."

She pulled back shyly, lowering her eyes and folding her hands in front of her, a blush creeping into her cheeks.

"Hey, Nat," My Uncle took my elbow and steered me into the house. "Lucy and I are going out. Lock all the doors and don't tell your dad that I left you alone, got it?"

I mocked a serious face and nodded, widening my eyes. "Sure thing. Be safe."

"Shut up," He snapped at my joke and was about to close the door before I stopped him. "What do you want?"

"I like her. She's a keeper."

My Uncle leaned over and kissed my forehead before shutting the door.

I'm glad he was happy.

Being a hunter was a full-time job so that meant there was no time for a healthy relationship.

But I guess when you meet the right person, there's no amount of angels or demons that can keep you apart.

* * *

**1. Nat has a girl's night out with a certain hunter, a close friend of the Winchester's **

**2. Nat asks Dean about her mother, Danielle**

**3. Nat gets drunk and something supernatural catches her eyes**

**I'm planning on wrapping up as soon as the ideas start drying out. So, if anyone has any suggestions I'll keep going on :)**


	13. Don't Try Lying To Me

**A big thank you to Emilyrose475 who suggested this :) sorry it took a while to update. I've been sitting up until two in the morning for the past couple of nights just staring at the computer screen trying to figure out where to start. **

* * *

_Natalie needs to know that she's just about damned because her last name's Winchester? Do you really think she needs me to explain to her that I had to kill her mother because a demon was just too far gone in her? I don't think so!_

Natalie stood pressed against the hallway; the palms of her hands parallel to the wall. She had started to count the seconds that passed by but time has a way of fading out of all knowledge. Her ears tried to piece together the muffled words which she could barely discern through the wall adjacent to the kitchen where her father sat with a bottle of Captain Morgan.

For the past two weeks, since her recovery from the vampire wounds, she had been fighting her inner self. Her entire mind was only filled with the thoughts of the mother she couldn't remember. But Nat couldn't convince herself to approach her dad with the subject she spent sleepless nights obsessing over.

"Nat!" Adam stood at the bottom of the basement stairs, calling up at the open door at the hallway where he could see her clearly standing. "Get me that monkey wrench on the kitchen table, would ya?" Moments after she had disappeared down the hall, he added, "And a beer!"

Nat rolled her eyes and shuffled toward the kitchen. "I thought slavery was abolished." She mumbled as she passed her father. Dean cracked a smile, watching his daughter stealthily brushed past him, grab the wrench, and disappear into the basement in a matter of seconds.

"Thanks," Her Uncle said before Natalie's foot could even reach the last step.

She looked around; her eyes soaking in the pile of junk that seemed to constantly accumulate in one corner of the already crowded basement. She handed him the wrench and, as he reached more for the beer with his other hand, pulled the bottle back toward her chest indicating for him to wait for her to snap the lid off with the silver ring Dean had given her after the last vampire hunt.

The young hunter watched her bemusedly, not changing his facial expressions as he finally was handed the bottle. Nat's face remained straight and somewhat bored, eyes cut in a slit and shifting back and forth from one end of the basement to the other. "Can I help?"

Adam shook his head between swigs, handing her the bottle to put on the stairs for later. "Take a beat, princess." He turned back to the washing machine which had been taken apart nut and bolt.

Nat sat on the bottom stair, ankles together, elbow on knee, and chin resting on the palm of her hand with her fingers tapping on her cheek. "Uncle Adam, can I ask you a question?"

"I don't see why not," He answered, sitting up on his knees in front of the strewn pieces of metal. "Hand me that frame over there." A gloved hand motioned to the white, metal frame of the washing machine which was propped against an empty barrel.

Natalie obediently dragged the frame toward her Uncle and sat beside him with her legs crossed. "What do you know about my mom?"

Adam's working hands stopped immediately. His fingers nervously tapped against the dirt stains on his jeans. His icy blue eyes not daring to look over at her in case some hint of terror inside of him would shift to her. He ran his tongue along his bottom lip, which had gotten dry too quickly, and sighed. "This isn't something you should be asking me."

"But you know my dad won't tell me." She weakly opposed, trying to keep her voice low in case Dean could hear their conversation from upstairs.

"He will." His voice rose reassuringly. "Dean'll tell you when he knows you're ready."

"I am ready."

"Obviously not, if he hasn't told you yet." Adam turned to her. "He knows you better than you know yourself, Natalie."

"Well, can you tell me how they met?"

"From what little I've heard from Sam and Bobby, apparently Dean met Danielle at a bar in Toledo. She was just another one-night stand to him." He shrugged. "they both went their separate ways and a year later you were born. Dean only knew about you after she died."

"And how did she die?" Nat tried to sneak in the question while her Uncle's muse was still going.

He smirked. "Nice try,"

The Winchester glimmer went across Natalie's forest green eyes for a brief, flaming moment as she bound up to her feet, her curly hair jostling against her shoulders at the sudden movement, and sprinted two stairs at a time up to the kitchen.

"Dad?" She called, walking into the kitchen and looking around at the empty chair. "Dad?" Her voice got louder and slightly more impatient. "Daddy!"

Dean, who had stepped out into the back porch for a few solitary moments of quiet, could hear his daughter's loud footfalls in the house. He sensed the desperation in her voice. His eyes closed tightly and a grimace laced his handsome facial features.

She sounded just like her mother…

The hinges of the back door didn't have a chance to creak loudly since Nat had yanked it open with so much brute force. She saw her father standing in the middle of the porch with his arms tightly crossed against his chest, his gaze fixed ahead. Natalie approached him slowly; her footsteps were calmer now.

"Dad, I need to ask you an important question."

A causal smile spread across Dean's face as he shot a sideways glance at his daughter. "If you want to talk about a new crush, you know your Uncle Bobby will be more than happy to listen."

"That's not what I wanted to talk about." She put dismissively, taking a few small steps closer to him.

"If this is about going on another hunt," Dean's voice got icy. He never wanted a repeat of the vampire's nest. "then the answer is no."

"Dad, just hear me out!" There was a pause as the two locked their green eyes and Dean knew exactly what she was going to say. "I want to know what happened to my mother."

"Nat-"

"I want to know!" The young girl stubbornly stood against her father; eyes fierce, hands tightened in a fist, and lips straight. "It's time I knew. And don't try lying to me. I'll know if you're lying."

Dean's immediate thought was to stand his ground. He glared his daughter down, waiting for her to fold but she didn't. She stood right in front of him, shoulders squared, and glared back.

"She died." He finally said, frowning when Natalie scoffed, rolled her eyes, and smirked.

"Yeah," was her sardonic remark. "I figured you'd say that much. How did she die?"

Another long pause.

"In a car crash."

"Bull."

"What?" His eyebrows knit together.

"That's bullshit, dad," Nat repeated. "I heard you in the Impala during that vamp hunt. You told Uncle Sam that you killed my mother because she was possessed by a demon."

A wave of anger and guilt coursed through Dean's body. "That demon broke every bone in your mother's body by the time we could exorcise it! She was between a rock and a hard place and there was no way she could make it."

Natalie was too angry to cry. She felt nothing inside of her. No pain, no sadness...nothing. Her mother had always been the mysterious subject of her interest and curiosity over the years but she had never known the woman to have any feelings of remorse for her. Nat's life only had room for five men.

"When were you planning on telling me, dad?"

The hunter's mouth opened to answer but his voice couldn't come through to tumble into words of false justification. He stood in front of his daughter, dampened with regret and struck down by the weight of inadequacy which had plagued him for years.

"Never," He replied, tears falling on their own accord when his daughter flew into the house in a hurricane of anger.

When all was lost,

And the sword of my enemy

Was pressed against my heart,

You were there.

When all the good in this world

Was sinking into the horizon

You were there.

When the time for me to decide

Was closer than our hearts

You were there.

Your solemn disposition was the only thing

That let me face another day.

I never told you before

But you were the one who picked me up.

I never told you before

But every time I look at you I want to smile.

Though our time to quarrel

Has come and gone

I will remember you

When the sword strikes my heart.

* * *

**1. Nat has a girl's night out with a certain hunter, a close friend of the Winchester's **

**2. ****Nat gets drunk and something supernatural catches her eyes**

**I'm planning on wrapping up as soon as ideas start drying out (which will be in another two chapters). So, if anyone has any suggestions I'll keep going on :)**


	14. Fatherly Instincts

**You have RealWinchesterGirl95 to thank for this chapter. Say it with me Sam, "Thank you RealWinchesterGirl95!" **

* * *

Nat wavered in the middle of the crowd, holding a hand to her throbbing head. The music was blaring through the speakers and the floor seemed to shift under her feet as she struggled to stay up. Her feet was sticky from stepping on spilled alcohol and she wondered momentarily where her new heels were. She tried to push through the myriad of dancing, grinding, horny teenagers in a futile attempt to find a chair to collapse on.

Just because she was half-Winchester, having already been born with a liver accustomed to booze, didn't mean the the tangy drinks wouldn't go straight to her head. Nat had been handed a few bottles of beer since she got to the party and before she could even drink halfway through one someone would shove her unexpectedly causing the liquid to spill all over her and the floor.

As she was still groping blindly towards what she was hoping to be the wall, away from the tight crowd and closer to the exit, an arm snaked around her waist and quickly pulled her to the side. Natalie pried and squirmed and fought but the grip around her waist held firm.

"Just relax," A smooth voice said as he continued to lead her through the teeming group.

An inaudible whimper escaped Nat's mouth as various people stepped on her bare toes. She shut her eyes tightly, willing to go wherever he was taking her. Once her feet stopped moving, Nat opened her eyes to look up to the face of a tall, dark haired guy with a sharply chiseled jaw.

He smiled charmingly; his hazel green eyes brimming with concern. "You okay, princess?"

Nat returned his smile while smoothing out her tousled hair and her dress. "Yeah, thanks. I'm Natalie."

"Nice to meet you," He grinned, leaning against the wall suavely and holding out a hand. "I'm Dean."

A twinge of hesitancy coursed through her body at hearing his name, but she politely took his hand. "Where you from, Dean?"

"You want honest or appealing?"

She smirked, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms under her chest. "I wouldn't mind either."

"In that case," He reached down to take her hand which she quickly pulled back. "I'm from Lawrence, Kansas."

"What're you doing in South Dakota?"

"Are you really interested?"

Nat shrugged, letting her arms dangle loosely at her sides. "Not really."

Dean nodded, chuckling lightly. It was amazing that she could manage to hear him over the sound of the music. Suddenly, his smile faded and he stared at her with eyes full of inquiry. "I'm staying with my Uncle while my Dad works."

"Same," She informed, asking herself if time-travel was really possible in this instance.

His eyebrows arched. "Really?"

"Yeah. Um, why exactly are you...why did you bring me here?"

Dean looked straight ahead for a moment before adjusting his gaze back at her. "I dunno. Something in me just said that you wanted some air."

"Like a fatherly instinct?" Nat offered with a shy smile which she hoped would make the suggestion less awkward.

"I guess you could say that…" He looked at her like she was crazy. And rightfully so. "Does your dad know you're here? You look like you're fifteen."

"Yeah, he knows," She said quickly. It was half the truth.

"That son of a bitch." Dean laughed lightly, starting to back up away from her. "Tell your dad I said that he shouldn't be letting his daughter come to parties by herself. You're beautiful. Wouldn't want you falling into the wrong hands."

Natalie stared after the younger version of her father until he disappeared into the shadows. She wasn't entirely sure if she was drunk or if someone had snuck roofies into her drink. Whatever had happened, she swore off of sneaking out at night to go to ratchet parties where she could potentially lose her new high heels again or see the teenage version of her father.

* * *

**1. Nat has a girl's night out with a certain hunter, a close friend of the Winchester's (Asellia Skyrunner)**

**2. ****Natalie gets a boyfriend and no one at home is happy about it (almp15)**

**3. A little Nat starts asking questions about her mom (sweetkiwi604)**

**A big thanks to everyone who was gracious enough to send me ideas (please, keep 'em coming!) I really appreciate it :)**


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